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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637799">Lips of Isis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagineitdear/pseuds/Imagineitdear'>Imagineitdear</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Come Eating, Drugged Sex, Drugged Will Graham, Enemies in love, Except Hannibal would definitely not try to eat his brain after this, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fellatio, First Kiss, Hannibal gets turned on by weird things mkay, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Prostate Massage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season 3 Episode 6: Dolce, Thoughts of Cannibalism?, Threats of Emasculation, or as Hannibal would clinically put it, scar fixation, that last one should already be a tag cmon, threats of amputation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:28:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagineitdear/pseuds/Imagineitdear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To forgive Will, Hannibal would have to eat him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>226</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lips of Isis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I imagine this scene taking place almost directly after "you dropped your forgiveness, Will," in the Dolce episode: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfjC4ra6jJE).</p><p>Please forgive the pretentiousness, long words, and overly-complicated metaphors! What can I say, it's Hannibal!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Will’s wound was bandaged, his body cleaned and dried, and a crisp, clean outfit laid out nearby for their looming dinner party with Jack.</p><p> </p><p>Will himself lay docile on the bed, eyes flicking under the membrane of his half-drawn lids, in the nude after the sponge bath Hannibal administered. Skin pale with spatterings of dark hair in the usual patterns, veins visible in the more vulnerable, nearly-translucent areas--well-formed but altogether common, in the long line of bodies Hannibal had seen bare.</p><p> </p><p>Save the crooked line slashing his middle.</p><p> </p><p>It was the scar that had Hannibal pausing, hovering like a comma after an unfinished phrase. Perhaps because this wasn’t a complete thought. Just a preposition, for the great unknown yet to come, the last breath before the body succumbed and the soul exhumed. There was much he had planned for them before the night was through. But for now Hannibal took a step nearer, eyes tracing over the raised line of pink scar tissue.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you hear me, Will?” he asked plaintively, though his gaze never left the mark. A hazy groan answered, the sound picking up in volume when Hannibal let an idle finger trace the puffy tissue. Surprised, or defensive, perhaps. As if the carved flesh was still a piece of himself. </p><p> </p><p>Hannibal felt his lips twitch upwards at the thought. </p><p> </p><p>“Good,” he said, dropping his hand. “I will require your assistance, once Jack arrives. A great many preparations to be made, after all, to finally enjoy our last supper together.”</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t surprised that Will spoke, though the words slurred nearly unintelligible: “S..s-Sacrificial . . . lamb . . . ?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Yes.” Hannibal felt a trace of that old ugly ghost, clawing at its cage behind his ribs ever since he scented the essence of Freddie Lounds on Will’s suit jacket. He would finally dispel it, tonight. “I often wonder that, despite modern advances, we still live psychologically in a polysemous world,” he said, eyes raking in how the little gasps of breath fluttered in the other man’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>How would Hannibal feel, when that stubborn staccato punched out its last note? </p><p> </p><p>“You must agree, science has made much shorter and fewer strides, towards even a grasp at prehension.” Hannibal glanced at Will’s face then, finally--the sharp bruises and cuts from Chiyoh’s good work only more pronounced on his sickly, pale skin. He was likely starting to feel the pain of the bullet wound again. “If you are uncomfortable, Will, it would be safe now for another small dosage,” Hannibal offered, pulling out the extra syringe in his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>The full-body shudder that wracked the other man was primal, almost--<em> sensual </em> . He seemed to gain some control of his bare limbs, finally, arms fluttering weakly between them as a barrier. “ <em> Please </em>,” Will gasped, “no, no, no--”</p><p> </p><p>“As you wish,” Hannibal said, unable to stop a cold smirk. He pocketed the drug, sitting at Will’s side on the bed and grasping one of his still-outreached hands. “All this to say--there is a frightening obscurity, to the human experience.” He squeezed Will’s hand gently, pleased when the man did not try, however feebly, to pull away. “One can never truly explain their own experience. Words fall, vague in their equivocality. No poet can hope to emote perfectly, no painter to illuminate properly. None can hold up anything but their own experience--save you.”</p><p> </p><p>He drew Will’s limp hand to his sternum, leaning down to breathe into the man’s damp curls, “You know exactly what you’ve done to me. And what I must do, in return.”</p><p> </p><p>Will shut his eyes tightly, hissing out a breath.</p><p> </p><p>Denying nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal leaned back, satisfied. Or, as much as he ever was, when it came to Will Graham. </p><p> </p><p>It was slightly rude, to leave Will bared so long, but it was also rude to pull a knife while reuniting with a friend. So Hannibal, a bit spitefully, left Will to shiver while he himself pulled from his go-bag another simple black sweater and new pants. He laid them on the bed before removing his own clothing, ruined from blood and bathwater. As Hannibal stripped his top, however, he heard a faint whimper.</p><p> </p><p>The sound continued, with more distress, when Hannibal leaned over to see what was wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Hannibal,” Will pleaded, shaking his head in uneven jerks.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal cocked his head. “Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>A shaking hand clutched at the back of his neck, not to choke. Instead, Hannibal curiously let Will lower his head, until their foreheads were near-touching. Until his coppery breath mingled with Hannibal’s own, hot and shallow in the air between them. </p><p> </p><p>Hannibal waited for the next move. To bite out his throat, perhaps, or beg, or cut with scythe-like words only Will could manage to hurt with. He would welcome the pain--treasure every sharp wound that would remind of Will when he was gone, and the last taste of him washed down Hannibal’s throat.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal jolted in surprise, however, when Will pressed their lips together.</p><p> </p><p>“Now,” Will breathed, pulling back too soon, “now--you can, can end it.” </p><p> </p><p>He sounded so sure.</p><p> </p><p>Just a few moments ago, <em> Hannibal </em> had been so sure.</p><p> </p><p>The lilting undulations of <em> Embryons Desséchés </em>trailed through a recent memory, fresh as meat steaming in winter air:</p><p> </p><p><em> If past behavior is an indicator of future behavior, </em> Bedelia had said, <em> there is only one way you will forgive Will Graham. </em></p><p> </p><p>And Hannibal had agreed: <em> I have to eat him. </em></p><p> </p><p>Now that conversation flipped on its head, its final revelation eclipsed by the implication Bedelia had so callously twisted to fit her own argument--<em> Love. He pays you a visit or he doesn’t. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal said now, unmoored. He leaned back, sat up, put a hesitant hand against the other man’s chest. His other itched to reach for the syringe in his pocket, a streak of cowardice he despised and ignored. “Is this how you would say goodbye?”</p><p> </p><p>Will laughed, that same old reedy chuckle. He shut his eyes tightly, one hand grasping at Hannibal’s forearm--though not to move it away, it seemed, the grip firm and steadying. “If words are so . . . polysemous, as you implied,” he said, slow but less slurred, now, “what use are goodbyes?”</p><p> </p><p>“There is an arguable consummation, to a kiss,” Hannibal murmured.</p><p> </p><p>“A culmination,” Will agreed, “or a commencement, depending.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look at me,” Hannibal ordered, swallowing down that heady thrill when Will obeyed. “You forgave how God does, you agreed.”</p><p> </p><p>Will nodded. “And you forgive how <em> you </em> must. A consummation--or consume-ation, really.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes traveled up and down Will’s form, considering.</p><p> </p><p>In Baltimore, he once had the means to savor. Freeze, pickle, preserve, one way or the other, though freshness was always preferred. The liver was a favorite, the meaty copper of it always pungent in the mouth. The heart would be more poetic, perhaps--but in this moment, he felt the ghost of Garret Jacob Hobbs, crouched bullet-ridden in their bed. More corporeal than Will in some ways, more mentally present. For Hannibal wanted every piece of Will, an impossibility without his tools and commodities in Baltimore. No part should be left to waste.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes passed and then refocused on the soft, limp flesh between Will’s legs, an idea forming.</p><p> </p><p>“The great Osiris found himself cut into fourteen pieces,” he mused aloud. “Isis, his queen, tracked them down where they’d been scattered across Egypt, while his murderer ruled the land in his stead. She lovingly stitched the pieces back together,” he traced the line along Will’s abdomen, though this time the man did not flinch.</p><p> </p><p>“You . . . weren’t there, to stitch me,” Will breathed, the accusation matter-of-fact.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal hummed. “But, upon reforming her lover, Isis found the phallus missing.” He stroked his hand lower, hovering just above the groin area. “Determined, she sculpted the last piece of her lover from memory, out of clay, and blew the life back into him. He was able to pass peacefully into the afterlife, and came to rule the realm of the Dead, forevermore.”</p><p> </p><p>Will’s brow was creasing, furrowed more and more with each passing second. “Hannibal, you--”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal interrupted, allowing his hand to gently make contact with Will’s flaccid member. The other man hissed. “Is there not more than one way, to consume?”</p><p> </p><p>Will was silent. </p><p> </p><p>“A deeper, more intimate kiss,” Hannibal mused, before standing up. He took Will by the legs, savoring each delectable sob that escaped the injured man as he dragged him half off the edge of the bed. He found a perfunctory bottle of lubricant in the bedside drawer, and snagged a pillow to cushion his knees before nestling between Will’s legs.</p><p> </p><p>Will’s breath was coming in fast. He was not able quite to lift himself, but still strained his neck to see as his legs twitched around Hannibal’s shoulders. “You’re going to--to . . . <em> consume </em>, me,” he said with a delirious laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“That was always the plan, dear Will,” Hannibal said, running his hands curiously over Will’s lightly-haired thighs. “Though, I admit, until just now the execution eluded me.” He smiled, pleased with himself. </p><p> </p><p>His original desire--to have Jack take part in the meal--had been thought out, but ultimately uninspired. In truth, this was between him and Will and no other. Forgiveness, a crossbow’s bolt penetrating through the both of them, perhaps was more a point of connection than tension. Fired by Cupid’s bow, even, Hannibal thought with a smile as he untwisted the lubricant’s cap, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>A jolt, Will’s legs tightening around him, was followed by a sound of protest as Hannibal lightly caressed Will’s tiny, furled entrance. Hannibal tsked at him. “Relax,” he said, putting on his most soothing tone he reserved for panicking patients. “You’ll jostle your wound, Will.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to make this any easier for you,” Will hissed in response.</p><p> </p><p>“Or for yourself, it would seem,” Hannibal sighed. Then he traced a line delicately down the other man’s cut member, finger pad tracing slow circles over the slit. His other hand kept up the gentle prodding at Will’s entrance, watching as Will’s cock slowly grew to life before his eyes. He felt a smug smile grace his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Will said nothing, though he was glaring at Hannibal’s expression when their eyes met. It only made Hannibal’s smile grow wider. “You spoke truly, in the gallery,” he thought aloud, continuing his gentle ministrations. “I find I don’t remember, the unreality of living outside our twin orbit. Was it I, who killed Garret Jacob Hobbs? Was it you, who bedded Alana? Which of us displayed Randall Tier’s corpse, or sent the other to jail? Which slashed Abigail’s throat, or was baptized in her lifeblood?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal pushed a finger in, then, and Will choked as if he’d been stabbed. Of course, in a way he had.</p><p> </p><p>“I expected my heart, in exchange for the broken one you left me,” Will gasped, fingers clawing into the sheets. “Or my brain, some epodic bullshit about dissecting it more--literally.” He groaned when Hannibal’s hand fully shaped around his cock, a snug passage to thrust into. Hannibal was a bit disappointed when Will managed to keep his hips still. “But this--this is--”</p><p> </p><p>He whimpered, cutting off when Hannibal curled his finger and found the prostate.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to bite it off?” Will asked bluntly.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal hadn’t smiled this wide in months. “I don’t think I will say,” he said, and then lowered his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal had sex when it suited him. It suited him, to take a piece of Will into his bed and claim her, though only now did he realize why. It suited him, years ago, to have a tryst with a married woman when people began to type him as ‘oddly private.’ It even suited him once, as a young man in Italy, to intimately engage with a fellow scholar in order to get a better look at the man’s notes.</p><p> </p><p>Now it wasn’t suitable, exactly. Hannibal couldn’t imagine the thought would have ever crossed his mind, if Will hadn’t consummated with a kiss. But now, holding the fleshy, vulnerable appendage between his teeth, feeling Will shudder and gasp and whimper at the sensation, tasting the salt and musk of his skin--now it was a feast.</p><p> </p><p>He kept up the nudging glances of his finger inside Will, stimulating him from the inside as his mouth gently suckled from the outside. A milking, truly, Hannibal realized with a stab of arousal. He groaned around Will’s cock, sliding it deeper, and heard Will’s answering groan in response. When Hannibal began gently tugging at the tiny entrance with his second finger, he heard no sound of protest. Just a whimper as he stretched the furl of muscle further, pulling slightly out with his first finger before pushing in with two.</p><p> </p><p>He began sliding his mouth up and down Will’s member in earnest, then, licking luxuriously at the tip for the first beads of pre-ejaculate. Going further, even when the blunt head hit the back of Hannibal’s throat, ignoring the gagging sensation to better simulate the pleasure of eating him whole. Hannibal was used to singing for his supper, whether in the world of academics or the primal hunt. He liked working to earn this from Will even more.</p><p> </p><p>When a third finger lined up at his entrance, Will tensed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fuck, </em>” he said, and then, “I--I don’t think, I can--”</p><p> </p><p>“You can,” Hannibal purred, letting Will’s cock pop loose from his swollen lips. “You can take it for me, Will. For me.” He pushed the third digit in, delighting in how Will’s back arched, a whine escaping his lips. “For me.”</p><p> </p><p>Will looked lost, after that. Unmoored as Hannibal was, mere minutes ago, eyes rolling and cheeks flushed as Hannibal massaged his prostate and applied kitten licks to savor the tip of his leaking cock. His other hand rolled Will’s small balls within his sac, or pinched at the seam of his thighs, or reached forward to trace the gutting scar once more. </p><p> </p><p>When Hannibal began to take him in properly again, letting Will’s member bruise the back of his throat, he could tell Will was close. But then a hand caught in Hannibal’s hair, a burning pull on his scalp, trying to pull him off. A leg swung, body attempting to twist and discourage the fingers thrusting inside. A harsh scent of fear clouded the air, and Hannibal growled.</p><p> </p><p>He kept his head nestled into Will’s pubic hair, and carefully set his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Will gasped, fingers tightening even further into his hair. “Hannibal, Hannibal--”</p><p> </p><p>But then Hannibal swallowed hard around his cock instead, coupling it with a harsh jab of his fingers to the man’s prostate.</p><p> </p><p>Will screamed and came.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal pulled back to taste the creamy ejaculation as it landed on his tongue. When the first spray of come was consumed he laved his tongue against the slit, begging for more, still massaging the man from the inside. Will shuddered, legs curling around Hannibal’s shoulders as another wave of his orgasm overtook him, rewarding Hannibal with a few more, weaker spurts. He suckled and hummed around the appendage. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until he gave Will’s cock one last lick, fingers stilling and slowly withdrawing, that Hannibal began to examine himself, prodding at that ugly old ghost that would usually be demanding Will’s blood again by now.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he felt sated. And pleased, too, considering he’d consumed Will without ridding the world of his fascinating person. In fact, depending on the other man’s libido and hydration levels, Hannibal could consume him this way at least a couple of times daily. A dessert low in calories, yet high in satiation.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal leaned forward, getting off his knees to reach Will’s mouth and share the taste between them. “Have you returned to me, Great Osiris?” he murmured against his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Will leaned back, expression still lost as his eyes flitted across Hannibal’s features.  “What if I had?” </p><p> </p><p>“A commencement, or culmination,” Hannibal said, contemplative. “Why not both?”</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t leave me here alive.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal chuckled bashfully. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then am I free to reach the afterlife, now?” Will said, bitter but resigned. Entirely misunderstanding.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal kissed him once more. “This, us together, is the After Life,” he whispered, watching as Will’s eyes flamed brighter in realization, “the dead are all those around us--and <em> you, </em> my dear Will, are their ruler. And mine.”</p><p> </p><p>He breathed in the clean scent of Will’s neck, kissed along his collarbone, repeating, “Mine, <em> mine </em> ,” and laved his tongue against the long pink scar that had started this decadent plunge into polysemy. To eat, to consume, to ingest--to breathe life into, as Queen Isis once did.<br/>
<br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments/kudos makes all the hard work worth it C:</p></blockquote></div></div>
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